


Downstairs

by JasnNCarly



Series: Jon Moxley (Dean Ambrose) & You [38]
Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Tumblr, greygirlmoxley, wwe imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 22:25:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasnNCarly/pseuds/JasnNCarly
Summary: A nameless neighbor has your attention.





	Downstairs

You have never felt this way before, but you do about him; the kind of man you’d be willing to do just about anything to get.

He lives on the level below you, quiet and unassuming. You’ve seen him just enough to know his days off are erratic, and he works a night shift. The only time you hear noise from his apartment is when you hear the arguments between him and his girlfriend. She doesn’t live with him, but she may as well with how often she imposes herself upon him.

You shake the feeling off as you descend the stairs again and head off for your morning run; this guy cannot always be on your mind when you’re home. Maybe you should move, maybe get a second job, anything but sit there with the knowledge that he’s right downstairs.

You manage to get a couple of bags of groceries from the corner market on your way back to the apartment. You have nearly made it upstairs, when the bottom of one of the bags begins to rip, “Shit!” You try to juggle your groceries, looking to see a few of your apples tumbling down the stairs, “Really?”

“I got it.” He husks, appearing out of nowhere and grabbing the fallen fruit; when he looks up, his light blue eyes nearly knock you over, “I can take one of those for you.”

“No, I got it.”

“Oh, you’re one of those females?”

You are temporarily released from your daze, snapping, “What kind of females?”

“Yeah, what I thought.” The corner of his mouth curls as he takes one of your bags, “Lead the way.”

Still irritated by his comment, you narrow your eyes and head upstairs. You get your apartment open, stepping in with the full expectation that he’ll follow and you’ll be stuck with that fantasy for weeks. When he doesn’t, you look back over your shoulder and narrow your eyes, “Don’t worry, I’m also the kind of woman that can kick your ass if necessary.”

His smile is so deep now that his dimples (which you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing before) are on full display; he enters your apartment follows you to the counter, setting your bag down.

You notice his look around your sparse apartment, unloading your groceries, “What?”

“Nothing, I just thought this spot would be more—artsy or something.”

Shit, did he just admit he’s thought about your apartment? About what you do? You let out a sharp laugh, putting some things in the fridge, “What do you mean?”

“I mean I always hear music and movement up here so I just kinda thought…” He sees your amused expression towards him and stops, “Nevermind. Guess I really have no clue what you’re doing.”

“You could always just ask.” His eyes are on you, intrigued, so you flirt without shame, “I’m an open book. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

He leans on the counter, arms crossed, “Okay, what’s with the music all the time?”

“I tend to listen to music to get out of my head.” You lean on the counter right next to him, looking over into his eyes, “It’s a dangerous place to be.”

“Hmph.” He dismisses your sentiment, “You dancing around with your music, too?”

“Who doesn’t?” You use every ounce of strength to keep your senses about you and avoid shivering at his smirk, “You don’t dance?”

“Not in a way anyone approves of.” He tilts his head side to side, slightly bumping your elbow with his, “Maybe I need a teacher. You give lessons, Ms…?”

“(Y/N),” You stand straight, extending your hand, “and maybe, Mr…”

He shakes your head, announcing the name you’ll never forget, “Dean.”


End file.
